


Bleedin' Nose

by Aquaphobia



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Fist Fights, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3497456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquaphobia/pseuds/Aquaphobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mituna Captor and Cronus Ampora bond over fist fighting in detention. High school AU. Hints at Cronus/Mituna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleedin' Nose

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this for my film class in junior year so pardon any mistakes, that was a long time ago!! At the time I really wanted to write fanfic so this came up, all I had to do was change the names, and ta-da, it's homestuck trash. I'm a big big biiiig fan of Mituna/ Cronus and there is totally not enough of it on here so here's my contribution! It's short but please enjoy! Thank you for reading, my friends!!

There's a kid in your class you're not too fond of. His name is Mituna Captor. The teacher, in his low Texan drawl, calls him 'Mit-huna'. The students call him Cap'n. His girlfriend calls him Babe (how he can have a girlfriend when you're more single than a Tommy Sands album is beyond you, and holy shit that was the greatest metaphor you've ever heard, why aren't the babes all over you?), but you call him Tuna. This is mainly because his name rhymes with the nasty fish, while doubling as an insult he can't point out without appearing rude to the greatest nickname any cool person has ever given him. Fish are stupid and Tuna is stupid, so it works. 

You had first met Tuna three years ago, at the beginning high school. He was almost as tall as you, which was surprising considering you were bordering on six foot at the time. His hair covered his eyes and was almost down to his nose, but after he got with Latula (who he is still with today- damn they've been dating a while), it was apparent she cut his hair for him. The kid had his problems, probably hit his head one too many times, because his grades were terrible, social skills horrid, and attention span even worse. Normally, that would be a reason to excuse his actions or some godawful bull, but in your case they were definitely facts to be used against him. Many one sided confrontations, an occasional beating from his little hottie Latula, and more than a few choice words exchanged by both parties had given you two both reasons to dislike one another. The teachers saw this, and after failing to get you to reconcile, began to go back to the old standard of handing out detentions.

Unsurprisingly, that was where you found yourself today. It was a Friday, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and work on your acoustic covers and originals (you were just so artsy and soulful), but Tuna had gotten a bit too in your face, and hit a few insults a little too close to home. Needless to say, he was here as well. 

You took a seat in the back row next to him, and shot his ugly mug a smile when you caught him glaring from under his thick, dark bangs. The only upside was that sitting so close to Tuna let you easily work him into another tizzy from basically doing nothing at all. The kid had bad meltdowns all the times, guess it came with the territory. 

“Hey Tuna,” you whisper when you're sure the teacher isn't looking, “'Sup with you, chief. Tell me what's goin' on.” 

“Thtop, don't talk to me. Thtop talking to me, atthh-hat.” Mituna tried to keep a low tone but his voice is rising quickly, to match his temper you suppose. 

Oh God that lisp. You always seem to forget about his horrible (hilarious?) speech impediment. Not to mention he can never just talk, it's always shouting and screaming and-

“Don't thit next to me.” He turns away and begins to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt.

“Woah there buddy, you want me to what next to you?” 

“Thit. I don't want you to thit next to me, okay? I don't like it, you need to thop.” 

This is playing out perfect. It always does. 

“Aren't you taking this a little fast? You haven't even taken me out for dinner yet. You're coming on a tad bit strong is what I'm trying to say here.” You're holding back laughter when you see his lips twitch in annoyance. 

“I don't under-th-tand what you're trying to thay to me.” He begins to scoot his desk away from you but stops when the teacher yells at him. “You're getting me in trouble,” Tuna lowers his head to shield his face from your prying eyes, “You always get me in trouble when you thit next to me.” 

“I'm sorry, when I what next to you? I'm afraid I can't quite hear you, friend.” 

“Thit. You always thit next to me and I don't get it and you alwayth find wayth to make thingth hard for me and I don't like it.” He pauses before speaking again, “And I don't like you either.” 

You shoot him a thumbs up. “Your words would be more hurtful if you could speak properly.” 

He stands and tackles you to the floor and in a flurry of flailing and yelling, he's pounding your head into the tile. You're not letting him get the upper hand so you elbow his jaw and wow that's a lot of blood on his face. There's some loud commotion behind you and you can feel grabbing on the back of your coat (ugh, they're going to rip it if they keep tugging like that). He's trying to get a hit in, but you're the king of blocking punches after all the fights you've been in (a total you only got to in the first place because of this kid and his filthy mouth). 

When they finally pull him off you, you're both sporting quite a few injuries and oh damn that elbow did not hit his jaw, did you break his nose? Either way Latula is going to kill you. 

“I can't fricken' believe this. Go up to the principal's office.” The teacher is looking exceptionally pissed, must've been one fight too many.

“But thir I jutht-” He catches some falling blood from his nostrils before it stains his flannel even more. “I jutht wanted him to thut up. He'th tho, tho,” Mituna stomps his foot before he tosses his hands in the air, “he keepth thitting next to me!” 

Before you can take a jab at his speech you're pulled back and tossed toward the door. 

“Quiet. Principal. Now.” 

You exit slowly, with Tuna trudging even slower behind you, shutting the door as he enters the hallway. 

“You're thit.” He mumbles as you make your way through the empty corridors. 

You grin. “There you go.”

****

 

You catch Tuna walking hurriedly down the stairs and across the road. Latula's not here to walk him. He might get lost out there. Looks like you better escort him. He's so lucky you're a nice guy.

You jog over to him. 

“Yo, yo, Tuna, you need help findin' your house? You should be happy I'm here to walk you home since Latu-” 

His gloved hands clutch his nose in an almost instinctive movement and he curses loudly when he bumps it. 

You were forced to leave the principal's office when Tuna refused to do nothing other than yell with you in the room. Being kicked out of school for the rest of the day wasn't such a bad punishment, you don't quite get why the main man thought so, but whatever suits him works for you. The remainder of your Friday was spent waiting for Mituna to get out of the building, which honestly you only did because you felt bad about earlier. Although you wouldn't admit that to yourself. 

This all is rather shocking when Tuna turns to you with a badly bandaged nose and bruised face far worse than yours. There's blood still staining his cheeks and when he sneers you catch some glimpses of the same blood, staining his teeth a light red. 

“Woahh, Tuna.” When you reach your hand out to touch his shoulder he jumps back and closes his fingers around his mouth protectively.

“You broke my nothe, Cronu-th.” It's then you notice the patches of dark purples and blues peeking out from behind his nails. “The nurthe had to put it back.” 

“Tuna you know I didn't mean to brake your nose, jesus, that's the last thing I wanted to do.” You honestly do feel awful, he may be exceptional at being awful, but he didn't deserve to break bones (was the nose a bone? You don't know you failed anatomy) over it. 

“Yeah right! You want to hurt me all the time! You go out of your goddamn way to puthh me around and 'Tula hath to clean up my methh all the time.” He frowns, voice shrinking as his girlfriend is brought up. “I'm thure Tula'th tired of it too..” 

You wrap your arm around his in a huff and walk forward with him in your grip. Mituna shouts loudly but quiets when you shush him. 

“I'm takin' you home, chief. Done enough damage today.” 

Tuna's watching you carefully but walks along by your side. After awhile you hear a muffled “thankth” as his hand grabs your arm timidly, but he remains at a distance. Occasionally, you hear him sniffle into his scarf. 

Damn, you're a jerk.

****

When you make it back to his house, he walks you inside slowly, still holding onto you tentatively.

His house is clean for the most part, although papers are scattered on the floor and cereal covers the counters. 

“I wath late to th-hool.” He murmurs.

There's a box of half-eaten oatmeal raisin bars sitting on the floor, and a container of milk that smells like it went bad hours ago next to the sink. You quietly hope he doesn't have bugs. Those things scare the shit out of you. 

“Spaz.” You laugh lightly.

Tuna lets go of your arm and folds his fingers together at his waist. He's nervously tapping his feet, and avoiding looking in your direction. 

“You anxious, huh?” You drag a chair toward him and sit down, dropping your bag to the floor. “Don't be.” You open a pocket in your backpack and begin to dig around.

“I've, uh, never had anyone over other than Tula.” He admits shyly. “I don't get company much.” 

“Is that right?” You pull out a small handbag and open the zipper. “I don't get much company, either.” You snort. 

“What'th tha-”

“Gauze.” You hand Tuna the little tubes of the soft material. “For your nose.” 

His eyes widen a bit before he takes it from you and starts to unravel it. “You carry a firtht aid kit?” 

You smile. “Hah, yeah. I used to get beat up a lot when I was younger.” You grab some Ziploc bags out of the pouch and toss it back in your backpack. Standing, you walking over to his fridge and fill the containers with ice. “Didn't have many friends, took care of myself. Now of course I take care of my little brother but he's not that fond of me. Got his fuckin' wizard shit, guess that's all he needs.” 

He snatches the Ziploc from you before you have time to close it and places it on his nose. It must really hurt, poor kid.

“I don't have friendth either.” He says happily. You can't see his expression from behind the ice and his bangs are blocking his eyes again. Damn, where the hell is Daisy with those scissors? 

“You sure as hell sounds pretty happy about that, Tuna.” 

“Oh well,” he shifts his weight slightly, “I'm just glad we have thomething in common, I guethh.” 

“Hm,” you sit back down after pulling out a chair for him too, “don't think we'll be best friends after this. I feel bad is all. Fixin' my Karma, all that shit.” 

He steadies himself with his left hand before he sits down carefully, as if afraid he might fall (which, quite honestly, was a very real possibility). 

“Oh.” His voice is distorted and shaky. That ice muse be too cold. “I didn't think that. Even thith lother wouldn't want to be friendth with you.”

He has such a way with words. 

“C'mere.” You hold your hands out and tap your shoe on the wood floor. 

You're a bit perplexed when he cooperates, dragging his feet up to you.

“What ith it, Cronu-th.” It's more of a statement than a question. Doesn't he know not to be rude to house guests? 

“Sit.” You pat your knee.

“Thop being grothh.” Tuna's voice is flat without any hints of amusement.

“I'm not. I maybe be a jerk but I'm not a pig.” You slap your knee lightly.

Mituna sets the ice down on the table and frowns. He moves over to sit on your leg. “Yeth you are.” 

You take the gauze from his hand, and removing the poorly placed bandages the school applied, you begin to unwrap and place the gauze in his nostrils.

“Thith ith thtupid.” Tuna's lisp gets spit on you face but you ignore it.

“It's to stop the bleeding.” You say calmly.

“My nothe ithn't bleeding anymore you dumbathh.” 

“It will be if you keep moving. Now sit still, idiot.” 

You patch him up pretty well, removing all traces of blood from his face and mouth. His nose is still somewhat of a mess, but with the ice the swelling has gone down considerably. In return, he throws in some gnarly looking microwave dinner claiming it was a “thankth” for all your “good treatment and not athh-like behaviour today”. You take that is a 'thank you so much Cronus, you are amazing and the best in the whole universe', so you allow a “you're welcome, Tuna” to slip out in between the undercooked noodles of microwaved spaghetti. 

You also apologize for breaking his nose, but that's a rather embarrassing moment you rather not talk about right now. Pride has its place and admitting mistakes isn't exactly your thing. 

“Hey, Cronu-th?”

“'Sup?” You stare at him lazily as he fiddles with his fork before dropping it for the nth time. It clatters loudly on the floor. 

“You're, uhm, not that terrible.” The words almost seem to physically pain him but when he smiles at you that fades quickly. “And I don't really hate you.” 

“Yeah well, you're still and idiot.” You put your feet up on the table and smirk. “And I'm still going to win all of our fights. Teachers know I'm stronger. Class does too.”

Mituna almost grins at that. “You're not terrible but you're definitely an athh.” He reaches down to grab at his fork. “Thtill, you're welcome to come back thometime.” He pauses, as if realizing how far he's putting himself out there and how easy it would be for you to shoot him down and punch him again, break some more bones and maybe a table or two. “Uhh, if you want to.”

Well hell if you ever thought you'd actually get along with this crazy kid. Crazy attracts crazy, guess that's true after all.

You nod up at him. “Tell you what, I'll come back over next time you need someone to stitch you back up after another scuffle at school, sound good?” 

He's visibly confused. 

You wink. “Next Friday I predict you getting into another fight, my friend.” 

Mituna's face brightens suddenly as he catches onto what you're saying. “And next Friday I predict you getting you athh kicked.” He snickers.

“Highly unlikely, Tuna.” 

Okay, so maybe fish aren't that stupid.


End file.
